Guilty Bonds
by Herana
Summary: Life is woven by the string of choices we make. Each person affects the next. The Exile was no different. It was just her guilt that bound this band of miscreants together and tied thier fates to one another.
1. Conception, Exile

Firstly, I don't own KoToR

Secondly, the General's name is in my other series, so...

Thirdly, thanks for reading.

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 1, Conception

* * *

The young general stared down at her project. She was not an invalid when it came to such things, but right now she was truly stuck. At the moment, it was just a contingency plan. No need to ask for help yet, no need to rush this. She hid the blue prints away as her soldiers came over to report.

"General, they seem to be preparing for another push. Several groups have joined the one we've been targeting for the past week. Their numbers have more than doubled."

She stared down at the lightsaber in her lap, "Okay. Add another five men to the watch tonight- do not let them get near us. No fires tonight, and everyone needs to rest as much as they can."

"Aye aye, ma'am." With a salute, the young men left.

Their initial flight in, they had destroyed every landing pad they could find. Over time, there was only one pad left. This was meant to be a trap for the Sith. They would come here to get off world, and the bombs would pour. Plans were altered- because the bombs would scare them all off, and the Sith would find another way off planet- and she and her troops were dropped off. Sith communications were constantly being scrambled, so they had no way of communicating with one another to warn of the Republic soldiers lying in wait.

As far as the Sith knew, the Republic had just missed a spot.

Lauren bit down on her lip as she continued to think of what was going to happen if they couldn't hold out. Thousands upon thousands of Sith would go out in the galaxy, killing and plundering and doing whatever else Sith did. That was unacceptable. That could not happen.

Which brought her back to her project.

She looked at the technicians. The older ones could not help her- no, they would figure it out. The younger ones would say something to the older ones. With that in mind, she called over the Zabraak.

"Yes, General?"

"Can you help me with a problem? It's just some wires that I can't plan out straight, or something." She said vaguely. When he nodded, she pulled out part of her plans. She never kept it all in one place, paranoid that someone would find it and start a mutiny. _That_ was all she needed.

"That's not so bad. This one here," he motioned to the problem, "can be rerouted through this one, then patched back to itself."

"Wow, I didn't even think of that. Thanks, ah...?"

"Bao-Dur, ma'am."

"Bao-Dur, I appreciate the help." She went back to studying her papers, planning planning planning.

"General, what is this?"

"This? Just a pet project." She cleared her throat, a clear dismissal, and waited for him to leave.

He took the hint and went back to discussing hyperdrive mods with his other techies. In spite of herself, she smiled. He was a good kid. He hadn't done anything to have to live with this.

That night, they were attacked and they barely survived. Her men were on edge, running on stims and other contraband she couldn't bring herself to take. They needed every edge right now, and she couldn't afford to follow regs.

She meditated for two hours before giving up and sleeping. Every time she almost cleared her mind, her situation would pop back in to mess things back up. It wasn't worth the wasted time.

"Don't wake her up right now, just wait." She heard a soft voice say. She was almost sure it was the tech from earlier.

"This is important. We can't take much more of this."

"She knows. But if she can't sleep, she can't lead. Let her rest for a while." The Zabraak said, gently but absolutely nonetheless.

She slept better after that. It was nice to know that there was at least one person who realized the strain of command. One person who realized she wasn't invincible or impervious to what was going on. Before she fell under, she made a note to herself to thank him.

…

Bao-Dur was smiling and laughing at her jokes. Everyone was. The attacks had stopped, temporarily, so they had time to finally relax. They were all so tired, any references to Gizka and Selkath hookers seemed hilarious.

They hadn't forgotten the Sith, nor had the Sith forgotten them. But now, on both sides, there was a need for rest. Not even the Sith could handle the constant warfare.

"Hey, Bao-Dur, you're kind of a genius. Think you can help me out again?" She asked casually. No one was paying attention to the two of them, someone else was telling _another_ fish story. This one was actually on Manaan.

"I can try, General."

She handed him the papers she had prepared in case he had agreed. It was just enough to keep him in the dark while still managing to see her problem.

He studied it for a few moments, his face puzzled. He pulled out a pen and paper from his pockets- the total cliché of it making the general smile- and began doing calculations. He finished his numbers, scribbled something out, and tried again.

"General, do you have to use that little of-"

"Yes, I thought it would be more challenging." she stopped him from saying exactly what. It would tune everyone else in. Saying things like 'explosive material' around war-dog technicians was like saying 'cheap porn' around men in the cantina.

"If you only plan to use that much, you'll need less materials surrounding it."

"I figured, but I wasn't sure exactly what dimensions would be best."

"This looks like it's part of a system. Assuming there's more of them," he looked at her to confirm. She only gave a stiff nod, but he understood, "the smaller the better. If you want, I can build you one and-"

"It's fine. I was just wondering if you had any suggestions."

"A master plate could be put inside of all of them. That wouldn't take up much space. And once you do that, you can design them all better. As long as you keep them small enough, you could easily... do whatever they're meant to do quickly."

The general nodded, taking her papers back. Bao-Dur had questions, she could see and sense that, but he didn't ask. He was waiting for her to explain, or at least tell him that was all she needed.

"Thanks again."

"Of course, General."

Lauren began chewing on her lip as she redrew everything. She started with the master plate. Bao-Dur was right. It would be easier if she could just have them on the same frequency instead of wired together. More area could be covered that way. Then something shifted in her vision. She didn't need an explosion like that. She needed something..more, if things had become desperate enough to use this project.

It was coming more and more into focus what she needed. She couldn't risk anyone getting away. Not one Sith could survive. She began her alterations immediately.

Over the next few weeks, she grew closer to Bao-Dur. She learned that he had a little robot with him that he had built as a kid, that he didn't like military food, and that he was okay at playing Pazaak. She also learned, she was not. He beat her every time.

The Jedi couldn't afford to be sloppy when it came to him. She had plans to use him. It would do him no harm, but she still felt guilty about it. It was Sith-like, the way she was manipulating him. It didn't matter how she felt about it, she had to do it.

"So, General, how's that project coming?"

"Well, I completely scrapped the old plan. It's become something bigger. A few bugs I'm having trouble sorting out, but it's coming along." she answered as honestly as she could.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Maybe, but I want to try and do it on my own. It's like cheating if I ask a tech."

"Fair enough."

She looked down. It would be so much easier if she could just be honest with him. She wanted to- truly, she felt he could handle it- but she didn't have the right to force the weight of this planet on him. She was the only one she was willing to inflict that upon.

"Say, General, you look like you want to tell me something."

Before she could stop herself- the the Force they were by themselves- she spilled her plan out. Major details she had been hiding from him were coming out, and his face didn't change at all. He still had the compassionate look on his face.

When she finished, she looked at him with worry in her eyes. There were several ways this could go down. She didn't particularly like any of them.

"Jedi always feel they must bear things alone. I'm here if you need my help, General."

"Bao-Dur, if you help me with this, you're going to hate yourself." She knew this to be true, she was already full of self-loathing because of the 'plan'. But it _was_ just a backup...

"It's just a plan B. Hopefully, you won't need it. But it's my job to assist you in any way I can General."

The young woman let out a relieved sigh and produced her new designs. Her hand was shaking when she handed them over. She was fighting the urge to cry. She didn't have to do this alone! Someone else could help... someone else could talk to her about it, and she didn't have to lie to him about anything. That meant more than actually helping with the SMG at the moment.


	2. Birthing, Exile

I don't own KoToR

Thanks for reading.

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 2, Birthing

The general couldn't be sure she heard right. There was no way! They had only finished the plans the day before yesterday, and had been fighting ever since.

"Do you want to see it, General?"

"Yes! How did you...?"

"I don't sleep much, General. Here, see?"

He handed her a medium-sized durasteel box that weighed more than it seemed. He had left the hatch open so she could see that it was built to specifications. She was amazed at how smooth everything was. It was as if a droid had done it, but she realized Bao-Dur was just plain amazing. His hands were calm, steady. In another life, he could have made a great doctor.

"This is...brilliant, Bao, just brilliant."

"I hope we never have to use this, General."

"Me too, Bao-Dur. Me too." She put the box next to her bed, "Where's the detonator?"

"I haven't made it yet. I want to ask you something, General." his voice sounded suspicious.

"Okay.." His tone was making her nervous. There was usually very little in his voice besides respect and amusement. She wasn't sure where this was going.

"How many other people know about this? Does Revan?"

"No..no this isn't Revan's doing. I'm just not an idiot about to let the Sith win this one." she answered defensively.

"Then let me use your lightsaber. I'll use that for the detonator, so that no one else can use it."

"How is that going to work? I'm going to need it to fight."

"It won't be out of commission for more than a few hours. I can make buttons and you can pick the code. It'll be complex, so you don't accidentally hit them."

"That's too risky, Bao-Dur. My lightsaber could break, or get stolen. I need something small, maybe small enough to fit on, say, a necklace."

Bao-Dur seemed greatly troubled by this. She wanted it to be easily accessible in case things went wrong fast, which she seemed to believe they could. He wasn't willing to let it be so easy.

"General, I understand. But if I make this into something you can wear, I'm going to put multiple layers of protection. Eye scan, DNA identification, fingerprint maybe, and voice ID. We can't let this be accidentally set off."

"Of course, whatever you feel comfortable with, Bao-Dur." She smiled comfortably at him. He didn't return it, but nodded thoughtfully. She could tell this was getting to him, but she didn't need to remind him that it was a secret.

When she tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep that night, she laid on her stomach staring at the SMG. Such a small thing was going to have an impact that would be felt for the rest of eternity. This planet would never be the same, probably uninhabitable. No one would survive. Her insides churned at the thought, but it was necessary. The galaxy couldn't handle more Sith.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the last of her sleeping meds. She had kept them from the last time she was on a ship with a decent infirmary. If she took them now, who knows when else she might need them. Lauren shook her head. No, she couldn't worry about that. She knew she needed sleep tonight. If she could sleep tonight, with the ultimate death machine inches from her head, she could get through another night without drugs. She would force herself to.

When she fell asleep, she didn't dream. There were no nightmares, just intoxicating silence. Blissful peace as she walked through the Room of A Thousand Fountains. Water was always calming. There was some strange thudding sound as she continued to walk, occasionally dipping her fingers into the water- which was only something she did in her dreams. One did not put their hands into the fountains- as she passed a particularly interesting one.

It felt like someone was touching her shoulder. She shook it off and focused on her walk. When this was all over... she would... what would she do? Go back to the Jedi? How could they accept her back? Especially if.. she blocked that thought. There was more interference with the streams of water.

Suddenly her eyes were open and she was looking at Bao-Dur.

"General! We need you to get up! We're getting slaughtered out here!" he was saying over the noise.

"What's happening?"

"The Sith! They're coming in hordes, General. We can't fight them all."

She grabbed her saber and went running, not bothering to throw on her Jedi garb. There wasn't time. She would suffer for it later, when there were holes and burns in her night clothes, but decency wasn't high on a soldiers priority list. Moments later, she was warm and her blood was pulsing fast. She was killing Sith left and right, up and down, backwards and forwards. There was no end. She let out a Force Scream and ten Sith around her fell.

She took a moment to charge herself again, but the Sith sounded the retreat. She was grateful that her men kept shooting while she searched the small mountains of bodies for survivors on either side. She was saddened when they counted all of their dead the next morning. Out of seventeen Jedi they had had, there were now four, including herself.

Lauren could barely stand to send in the report. It was an embarrassing failure- one that probably could have been avoided if she hadn't've taken those sleeping pills. She would have been awake, and a few Jedi might have been saved.

"General, what are we going to do now?" Bao-Dur asked. The Jedi could tell he was trying to make sure she wasn't planning on using the SMG.

"When the report files through, we'll know."

"I finished two more, General."

"That's great Bao-Dur, really. Just one more and we'll have enough. Anything on the detonator?"

He handed her a rather small canister looking object on a chain necklace. There was red glass at the end, and she could see several sensors.

"Bao-Dur, thanks."

"General, I don't know about this. You'll have to... you'll have to be on planet to activate it."

"I realized this a long time ago. It's something I've accepted. You'll have to accept it, too. There will be more people to die than me. And, maybe, it'll do some good."

"You're talking like this is already in motion. Last resort, General."

"Just let me worry about it, okay?" she was being harsh, but he needed to know she would do what was necessary. That she would be mean to her self-confessedly only friend if she needed to be.

He sighed, realizing she was right. The only reason he had agreed was because she had the right idea. But now that it seemed so close to becoming real, he was afraid he'd made the wrong choice. As a tech, he had little mind of the actual workings of the war, but he knew things were bad.

They were bad enough that the General was already preparing to die.

…

"What's the meaning of this?" An elder tech asked.

"Just what it says. You're wasting your time here, wasting our resources. We can't keep you protected anymore, so you're being sent back." Lauren answered. She hated sounding so nonchalant about losing the techs, but really she was saving their lives. Bao-Dur looked at her, terrified at the implications of this.

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

In a few days, the shuttle came to pick the techs up and drop off some new recruits. They were all so young, barely old enough to enlist. Lauren had told them not to send anymore, but of course they did anyways. What kind of general didn't want more recruits?

"Bao-Dur...thank you, for everything."

"General...don't do this."

"I'll see you around. Keep trying your best." She walked away quickly before he could protest. The weight of the detonator, which was near her heart, weighed more now than it had the first time she'd seen it.

Parting was sad, but maybe it wouldn't be permanent. Something told her she'd see him again. Maybe in the next life, maybe not. Either way, what's done was done, and it could never be undone.

The charges were set, and she was ready. Or so she'd hoped.

Her will faltered under the eager, trusting gazes of the greenhorns.

Lauren turned her backs to all of them, symbolically cutting off her ties with them. Now was not the time to be soft or wishy-washy. Now was the time to be born anew and finish things here. Once, and for all.


	3. Living Dead, Exile

Repetitive: I don't own KoToR

Thanks!

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 3, Living Dead

The young woman, aging before her very own eyes, stared at the destruction in front of her. The unit she had been given was laying in front of her, broken and battered. The Sith weren't here. They had left her, and her alone. Their mistake.

She took her necklace off with numb, unfeeling fingers. She wasn't sure how to start up the series of locks.

"Activate sequence." She tried.

"Password?"

The General cursed. Password? Had Bao-Dur ever mentioned anything about a password? She racked her brain, pulling through each conversation they had for almost five minutes.

"Password?" Bao-Dur's voice repeated.

Then an idea popped into her head, "Last resort."

"Voice print confirmed. Scan." Bao demanded.

She put the red class to her eye, the laser scanning very carefully. She kept fighting the urge to blink the blinding red light out.

"Confirmed. Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid Identification." He stretched out the word to avoid alien detection. Lauren placed the container's end on the inside of her lower lip. There was a silght pinch, then a loud click.

"Orders, General?" she could almost swear he was next to her. She took a few moments to clear her mind and steady her voice. "Take your time, General."

She laughed, at Bao-Dur's kindness. He knew this would be hard.

"Activate the Shadow Mass Generator."

"Repeat."

He made sure this was what she wanted to do, "Activate the Shadow Mass Generator."

"Confirmed. Was an honor, General."

She took a breath, and waited. The planet shook beneath her, and she felt the effects of the weapon immediately. People were dying- screaming-crying-dying. She tried to close her mind and wait her turn, wait for the silent embrace of the Force. It didn't come. For hours, she was forced to endure. Her mind was breaking. She could hear herself verbally begging for it to end, for some peace, if only for a moment. She wanted respite, forgiveness, death. Anything but this.

Days passed. She spent them lying on the tremulous ground writing in agony. Lauren didn't know how much more she could take. How much could a person be expected to endure and still be the same? Or sane?

Her eyes were open and blood shot. There was a green glow on the planet. And a whining, high pitched sound. She couldn't place it's location, but it sounded close. Her stomach growled, and she had enough training to know that soon enough, her body would begin to consume itself. Force, why wasn't she dead yet?

Was this her punishment for this mass murder? For killing so many so quickly without proper burial services? Her existence was a crime, she could feel that right now, in every fiber of her being. She should never have been born, or thought of. This was horrible.

After a while, she stopped paying attention. She didn't want to die aware. She retreated into her mind, trying to find solace in happy memories. She found none, but it helped a little.

Then, things got quiet. She smiled- or at least, she felt like she was smiling- to herself triumphantly. She had won.

She was finally free of the oppressiveness of listening, feeling, living everyone on this planet's death. It was greatly welcome.

Then she became very disoriented. She could hear voices.

"She's alive-barely. Starved, dehydrated, deeply unconscious. She's been fighting death hard. She should be fine."

No! She hadn't fought at all! She'd _begged_ for death. _Begged_, with tears, on her knees, cursing angrily at the sky as humans were wont to do. Why had she survived? What was she supposed to do now? There was no solace.. no... future. Nothing. She tried to voice her wishes.

"Just sleep, Lauren. You'll be better soon."

She could feel an injection in her arm when she realized. She was being punished, definitely. The Force was laughing at her for taking things into her own hands. So, as she faded back out, she decided to bare this. Alone. But first, she had to go and answer to the Jedi. Accept their punishment as well.

She owed them that much.

Everyone who met the woman after that could so easily see, she wasn't living. She was a shell of a woman, walking among the living. At least, most thought after walking away from her, she did not suck _all_ of your energy out. She just left you feeling tired, and you wanted to go out and..._live_.

Ten Years Later

Her four and half month vigil was over. She was now free to move again. She had the list of ships departing within the next week. She could afford any one of them, but she had no real interest. Lauren stared at the list for too long and put it aside. She could wait until the next day to decide.

She looked at her bare accommodations. It was nicer than apartments she had stayed at, but she didn't feel comfortable here. It looked to...neat. She passed the mirror on the way to the kitchen. It was a grim sight, but one she was used to. She looked older than she was, but then again, she felt older than she would hopefully ever be.

Her hair wasn't gray, but it sure wasn't shiny or soft like it used to be before...

She ate silently, and took back to looking at the list. She picked up a pencil from her counter top, and began swaying it over the pages. She quickly tossed it up and looked where the graphite marked.

SS Harbinger.

She circled it neatly, put the pencil back in her bag, and went on the holonet to purchase her ticket. She didn't look at the destination, the crew, the cargo. Didn't care. She just needed to keep moving. Keep...running. Because that's what she was good at.

It's what had killed thousands upon thousands of people before- her cowardice. And if she let herself think about it- she would lose every inch of composure she'd worked for. So she took her sleeping meds and didn't dream.

Ah, the benefits of an addiction.


	4. Honesty, Atton

Last disclaimer, I swear...

(The Atton in these come from my series- so if there's

people who don't make sense, that's why.)

I don't own KoToR

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 4, Honesty

Atton was staring at Revan. His heart was pulsing. It _hurt_. He had never hurt like this before. Of course, he was only eighteen. How much could he _have_ felt? And then _she_ crossed his mind and he knew- a lot. He could have felt a lot, especially for that girl. Now she was gone, without a word to him.

He should have been expecting it. That look in her face. He'd known something was off.

"What...now?" he asked.

"She wanted me to watch over you. From the reports, you're an excellent soldier. I'd love to have you, if you're interested." Revan offered. Atton didn't feel like there was much choice. He was a trained soldier- and there was a once in a life time chance to work with _the_ Revan.

And, if he was honest with himself, the real reason he agreed was because that was what that stupid flower wanted. Well, Atton was never going to be honest with himself again, as far as he was concerned.

The training Revan put him through made everything previous feel like a warm-up. He hadn't known his former general's had been so, well... young. They didn't work as hard as the adults did. And he was catching up to them quickly.

He was good. Revan had told him as much the third day she'd personally trained with him. He would have normally found her personal interest in him a bit disconcerting, but he saw it was her way of holding onto the one they had both lost. It was the last thing they had of her, and neither one was willing to just let it go.

The same way- _she_- had taught him, Revan showed him some Jedi tricks to keep his mind _his_. And he was good at that, too. Revan was staring at him with interest most of the time. Atton was used to it. He had done nothing but devote himself to being better. Maybe one day, if she ever came back, she would really see the changes with pride. He'd done it for her, if he was honest with himself.

But Atton gave up on that a long time ago.

…

When he first heard of her return, her plight against the Jedi. He hesitated. Then he signed up within the same breath. He was shocked to see Revan remembered who he was. She had personally sent him to a platoon. Made sure he got the best.. training available.

Soon enough, he was one of the best.

Then soldiers started vanishing. Whispers started. He had a horrible, sinking feeling that something bad was happening to them. And his instincts were screaming at him to get out- but he didn't. He should have. _But he knew why he didn't._

When Revan called him to her, he didn't know what to expect.

His first few missions weren't...awful. But they were certainly things he would not normally do. After a few tries, he was improving. And growing to the point where he didn't care. Then the missions stepped up. Breaking minds, souls, bodies.

Sleeping got difficult for a few weeks, then he stopped caring. He couldn't feel that part of him anymore. They were all the same, those Jedi cowards. Passive at first, then defiant. Then either broken, changed. Or dead.

But this mission was...

Atton was a murder- torturer. Executioner, condemner. But he wasn't a rapist. He did what she's asked, but gotten sick afterward. The second and third time was just like the rest. He grew used to it, and soon enough it was just part of his arsenal. Most days, he enjoyed his work. He grew to love what he did. For some reason he didn't know, they began calling him Jaq. He must've missed the joke.

The only time he felt anything beside hatred, rage, and simple 'pleasure' on Koribaan was when he looked at his lone tattoo in the mirror. He had gotten it as a reminder- and now it was outdated. He couldn't allow himself to feel anything like that ever again. Not with what he did.

"Hey, Jaq, how many've you done today?"

He was grinning wickedly, "There were eight."

They all shared a good laugh.

"How many survived?"

"There _were_ eight." he repeated with malice in his voice. They all caught his meaning and howled some more. More alcohol was passed his way. Celebrations like this were common when they were running low on prisoners.

Revan stopped in the next day, openly berating them because of their hangovers. She was yelling, angrily and snarly like Sith women do. Atton didn't know how much more he could take before he would need to take it out on someone. Fortunately, she had a fresh stock of Jedi.

All but a few of the women were left to him. To break at his leisure. He cracked his fingers and got to work. Two had broken by the end of the day. Out of twelve, that was a pretty high rate.

Then the last one came in, and Atton felt his heart pulsing for the first time in years. There was a ghost in front of him. He stared at her for hours studying her features, making sure she wasn't who she looked like and was someone else. And she stared back. Her gaze wasn't angry. It wasn't sad, scared... she looked... like she was sorry for him. And that made him angry.

When he pushed her onto the ground and stood over her, she didn't flinch.

He couldn't do it. Those eyes... they were waiting for the right time. And he couldn't when she was so...so damn alive.

When he was about to leave, the girl spoke for the first time.

"I came here to save you."

And Atton didn't listen. That's exactly what- _she_- would have said. Atton knew that he desperately needed saving. If he was honest, he would be admitting he wanted out.

But of course, scoundrels were never honest.


	5. Set Up, Atton

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 5, Set Up

The bartender gave him another drink. This was his eighth. He could still see straight-there was barely even a buzz. That's what you get for drinking Mandalorians under a table. Then he smiled- Revan was the only person who he had never been able to beat. They'd run out of alcohol first.

The next person stepped up. He laughed when he beat them. He _had_ told them all, hadn't he? He was the best one in this station. And so far, no one had been able to prove otherwise.

He looked around at the women in this place. There was a Twi'lek eying him curiously. She saw him staring and bit her lip. Hn, he snorted, this one would be too easy. But he was bored, and had no other plans. So he went over to talk to her.

Less than an hour later they were at her apartment complex. Atton didn't particularly care. It was just another girl, another world. He was going to get off world soon enough. Should have tried for a harder mark. Someone who was a bit of a challenge.

When the girl fell asleep, he headed to the space port. He didn't want to stay on whatever this planet was anymore. He was bored out of his mind.

He looked up at the ticket information. None of the places seemed interesting.

"Hey, psst." Atton turned to see. Someone was beckoning him into the alleyway. He was no idiot. He approached, but didn't enter the darkness.

"You seem like a good pilot."

"Am." He answered simply.

"Are you interested in a lot of credits? I need a good pilot. I've got a ship, a crew. No pilot can fly good enough for what I need." The man answered.

"And, what, exactly, do you need?"

"Smuggling." Was his answer.

Atton grinned, "I'm in."

At least it was something to do.

…

Atton cursed again. Whoever was following them was damn persistent. What the hell kind of cargo did they have? But he knew he better not ask. Things like that got you killed. And, hey, he was all for staying alive.

They landed on Korriban for fuel and supplies. The retreat had been hasty, so there was little time to gather supplies. Atton waited for the word to start the ship up again. They gave him some strong alcohol for a reward.

They spent the next few months traveling across the galaxy, never once mentioning to Atton what it was they were carting. He didn't care. As long as he was getting paid- and he was- he was fine. He didn't trust the people he worked with as far as he could throw them, but they were easy enough to get along with. They didn't bother him, he didn't bother them.

Things were beginning to get boring again. Nothing had happened for weeks. Until they got near Telos. Shots were being fired at them from every direction, seemingly from nowhere. Atton had to fight to remain aloft.

They shot a few, but they escaped before anyone could do anything else.

His piloting skills were the only thing that had kept them alive. They were going to have to stop for repairs, and soon. Something was wrong with their fuel lines.

They arrived at Peragus station, more or less okay. After they got checked out, Atton was thrown into a holding cell, alone. He demanded to know why, and the only answer he ever got was 'a security protocol', but beyond that, he was told nothing.

So he sat in his electric cage, wishing it was just a bit bigger so he could pace like the anxious lion he was.


	6. Let Down, Atton

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 6, Let Down

The beginning of his sentence was bearable, they talked to him, he got the latest station scandal. Apparently there had been a ship with a Jedi on it. She was in a coma in the med-bay at the moment. The thought made his skin itch. A Jedi? Unconscious in your med-bay? Didn't anyone else realize how dangerous that was?

Not that they would know. They had probably never seen Jedi like he had. But it was a female Jedi. He just hoped she was still Jedi and _not_ Sith. That would be so kriffing bad for this station. They'd probably all die... not him, though. He could easily end her. He spent hours fantasizing about killing her before he realized- that was a different time. He couldn't risk getting back into all of that again.

…

He'd screamed so much he'd gotten thirsty. And, of course, they were not going to give him anything to drink. He hadn't had any sentient contact in days. They had sent a droid in to push the lone food tray at him.

So you seduce _one little guard_, and she gets all upset about it. There was no reason to treat him like this. He couldn't really help it, it was in his nature. She was pretty, and he could tell she was watching him with more than just a professional eye. She had it coming.

He put his head back on the beam.

The station rocked and it nearly knocked him into the field. Lucky for him, he was able to move quickly. He heard shouting outside- a lot of it. Then things got eerily quiet. His guts were in synch with his mind- time to go. Damn field.

He waited. Droids could occasionally be heard outside, but he didn't hear any more footsteps. He took to remembering things- certain things he had blocked, for his own safety- that made him smile. The last thing, the one he lingered on the most was- _that_ girl. He had spent a lot of time thinking about her, and for a moment, he could almost feel again.

He wasn't lost, he wasn't..afraid.

He was eighteen again, and that girl was his world.

It was pleasant enough, up until those last days with her.

He could hear some disturbance outside. Just as well, he was out of things to remember.

Still, he could hear her distinct laugh. See her smile.

When the door opened, he was going to complain about the sub par treatment to the staff. When he looked up, however, a sarcastic comment escaped before he could stop himself. But if Atton was honest with himself, he was only trying to defend his mind from the painful memories of that girl. And if he were honest, he would tell himself that seeing the red haired woman in front of him, who was beautiful in her own right, was a let down to him after seeing that girl in his mind.

"Nice outfit. What, you miners change regulation uniforms while I was in here?"

But, then again, scoundrels were never honest.


	7. Direction, Kreia

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 7, Direction

There were several places to look, and the Force wasn't giving her any inclination whatsoever. Pah, as if she would- but now was too important to ignore the Force. If it told her anything about where she needed to go, she would have followed. There was something greater than her own misgivings.

The means to an end.

The crew shifted uneasily around her. They, being the Force-insensitive zealots they were, could feel the dark air around her, even if they could not explain it. She was grateful for it, in times like this when she wasn't sure where they were headed. No one dared question her.

She spent hours meditating before finally deciding.

It was a simple run, a little out of the way, but it was the kind of place you found trouble in. And, in a sense, she was looking for trouble. She just hoped the right kind of trouble was waiting for her when they arrived.

The travel there seemed rather slow to Kreia. Time dredged on, achingly so. They were supposed to be out of hyperspace within a week, no time at all in comparison to the wait that had gone into all of her efforts. So, she was content to wait another week, month, whatever it took to find exactly what she needed.

Even if finding it would mean her death.

…

Kreia's long-hardened heart almost sank at the wreckage. As they had gotten closer, she had gotten a stronger and stronger feeling about this place. The ship was more or less in tact, but there was little life left. The escape pods had all been launched on the side they had approached on.

Kreia searched through the Force, looking for any signs of life. She could feel it, one tiny little pulse of life in an escape pod. She ordered it to be brought aboard. That took an hour. No time at all...

When they opened the pod, they saw an unconscious woman, red haired, pretty. And very much a Jedi. Kreia couldn't help but smile. _This_ was exactly what she had been looking for. This lone, tiny Exile.

Medical treatment was given, though she still didn't wake up. Kreia wondered what had happened that the Exile would shut herself into her own mind. Then she scoffed. Why did she care? The point was she had the key now, and all that was left to do was mould it to the proper shape.

Point the Exile into the right direction, so to speak.

Kreia ordered that they make haste to the nearest civilized station. The woman was going to need something to do when she woke up, and there were plenty of problems on any given station. Jedi's were easy to manipulate once you gave them a purpose.


	8. Fight or Flight, Kreia

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 8, Fight or Flight

There weren't any problems until a few days later. People started to ask questions. Important questions that would ultimately lead to the death of either her entire crew, or her and the Exile. She would not allow them to look at her, much less touch her. It made them afraid of the unconscious woman. They thought Kreia was protecting _them_, not the Exile.

People were so foolish.

The droids were the only ones allowed to go in regularly and check on the woman. They reported directly to Kreia, stopping to talk to nobody before informing Kreia of any changes. For once, they were being useful.

"Ma'am, I... we, were wondering... what is she?"

"She is none of your concern. Focus on what I tell you, and not on the woman."

"But-"

She cut at him with her blind eyes, and he stopped talking. Moments later, he was dead, and she was moving his body away. Nobody needed to see it right now. Nobody needed to know. She had to do the 'right' thing and protect the Exile. Everyone else was expendable. A closer word was fodder.

Kreia would gladly use them all as an excuse to train the Exile, if she would ever wake up.

…

Her mind was beginning to wake up, which was a good sign. Still, Kreia was not impressed. If it took her this long to get over _no_ injury, what was going to happen if she actually got hurt? But she knew there was resiliency, she wouldn't be alive if she wasn't strong enough. The old Force-user was willing to wait. As usual. This Exile had better be worth it.

Her pilot called her in to the cockpit.

"What is it?"

"Something's coming. Fast, hard. We're not being hailed. We can't course correct fast enough, they're going to ram us if they keep going. And they know it. I've already tried to reach them. No one answered."

"Then you'll need to find some way to get us out of this. Unless you wish to perish, I suggest you do it quickly." Kreia was short with her words. She had _not_ come this far to be taken down by an empty ship. No, the Exile was too important to let die like that.

Then, suddenly, her pilot began cursing in four languages. She agreed with him on most points. They _were_ practically kriffing Gizka about to get _helmhra'd_ by a flaming Laigrek. The _Hawk_ shook violently, threatening instantaneous death if one little crack in the right place happened.

When she went back into the center of the ship, she grit her teeth. They couldn't take the ship. She could feel how much smaller their ship was in comparison to it. So, she had to decide. They could try and fight, maybe they could buy the Exile some time... but what good would that do? Or they could run.

But what good was that, either? They could just be followed. Or hit, or any number of things could go wrong. And none of them were pleasant. She ordered her pilot to try and get out of here, go as fast as he could to the nearest anywhere. There was a hail she tried to have sent- if they were going to survive, someone was going to need to know that they were in trouble. She went to check on her hope.

The Exile's eyes opened a bit, showing little recognition of her surroundings, and when she met Kreia's eyes, she drifted back into sleep, as if relaxing.

Kreia knew then she had made the right choice. Staying and trying to fight would have certainly ended the flame-haired woman lying on the bed in the med-bay.

And _that_ was not an option.


	9. Subconscious, Kreia

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 9, Subconscious

Kreia could see things were going to end badly. They might be boarded by whatever was on that ship. She didn't know what she was going to do if the Exile got hurt, or killed. Any thought in that direction froze her mind, so she quit chasing that rabbit.

The panic in the air seemed to have an effect on said woman. Her body started moving, she was beginning to try and sit up on her own. No doubt this was due to her training- Jedi always moved faster when there was a threat. Which was always their failing. They could never accept that there might be an enemy who was patient enough to wait...

"...Help..." the unconscious woman whispered. She was reaching for Kreia's cloak.

"I'm _trying_." Kreia snapped, as if it were the woman's fault. Then she sighed, not apologizing or feeling guilty. This woman was just unfortunate. It wasn't entirely her fault. But there was nothing either one could do about it, and getting angry was not solving anything.

The ship shook again. Kreia reached for the young woman, taking note how light she was in comparison to how toned her body was. She didn't take much care of herself. That would have to change, if there was time for it. Even though she was light, Kreia struggled to keep hold of her. The Jedi was fighting. Not on purpose, but still.

"Be still." She commanded, and for a moment, she was obeyed.

"...trouble..." The woman said.

"You're safe." Kreia answered, feeling for the woman. To be unconscious and feel the threat. To know you were in danger and be able to do less than nothing about it.

She let the woman down in the med-bay. The old woman took one last moment to smile down at the woman. If they survived... she was going to enjoy teaching one last student.

…

The droids were frantic, they were trying to repair each and every hole, but Kreia demanded the droids make sure getting into the med-bay where her Jedi laid in a subconscious state was hard enough to be safe, easy enough to be done.

After they had secured that, she released them to do necessary, though pointless repair. The ship was lost, her pilot and most of her crew were already incapacitated or dead. Not that she cared, but she did need a way out. On one particular shot, she fell against the wall opposite the cargo hold.

Her head hit a protruding object, and she couldn't move. For hours, things seemed to get silent. The firing had stopped. Someone had finally jumped this piece of tin into hyperspace, far enough away to not worry about the hostile ship. Slow enough to worry about repairs.

Still, her body would not respond to anything she tried. She couldn't move, could barely think. It took her many, many years of training to even form coherent, albeit short, sentences in her head. All she could do was watch as T3-M4 went to move about. She could see the droid, and one other it had reactivated, go into the med-bay, she worried. But they were squawking about having stabilized the woman.

The droids went outside, fixing Force knows what.

Then, much to Kriea's dismay, another figure approached the med-bay. She had thought the particular droid disabled- they had made sure it was powered down when they had picked it up from the woman's escape pod- but apparently not. He came out carrying an unconscious, though she looked better, figure. He placed her in the cargo hold across from her. She was horrified- no! _Her_ Jedi!

But her eyes closed, it got dark. She couldn't fight it. Kreia knew what was happening. She was dying. But she couldn't die. Not now... not when she was so close. Not when her... champion was right out there! Right...

Thoughts escaped her. There was only primal instincts, the fight with fire for life. She wanted to live. She still wanted to try...

Her memories flitted by, like a poorly constructed play. There were things she didn't care to watch, as there was in anyone's life. As she reached the end, her fear returned. She could see the fire-haired woman, the droid.

She couldn't let everything she'd ever worked for just be gone like that. She just couldn't.

Her limbs didn't respond, no matter how much will she forced into her body. She was angry- furious. The Force had brought her this far to laugh at her. That had to be it. All along the Force had known her plans, let her get this far, just to throw her down and laugh at her!

She took one last attempt,

_::Awaken::_

Slowly, surprisingly, her arms freed. Breathing became a conscious effort. Her legs began to respond. Triumph.

She pulled herself up, with the full intent to save her Jedi out of the cargo hold only to wake up in a well lit area, sterile, but not even cleaning supplies of the highest degrees could clean the smell of death.

Kreia pulled herself up, fixing her hood in the process. She could see a scantily clad body, with curly red hair dripping down her back. She smelled of Kolto. She was searching the body, and she happily pulled out a plasma torch.

Kreia smiled, though it could not be seen, "Find what you are looking for amongst the dead?"


	10. Power Up, T3M4

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 10, Power Up

T3 had been traveling with these organics for a long time. They were all... well, organic. There were other droids on this ship- just one other. T3 did not like the droid. Something about it set it's circuits alight. They fought often, but never when Master was looking.

The younger male of the group, the one who was always closest to Master, recorded a message a few days before... the accident. T3 refused to believe it was anything but. Even if Master said she was sorry before she did it.

He could hear the shots, HK-47's loud, unbelieving remarks. It's Master could be heard sobbing, but T3 was used to that. She had been doing that a lot lately, when the other male wasn't there. Her footsteps echoed and it's receptors had barely seen her before she pulled it's plug.

…

It's lights came on only moments later.

But it's photoreceptors were focusing on another face. Male, human, unknown. It's first instinct was to attack, but the man was holding his palms to the droid. Human expression of surrender, or passiveness. It waited for an explanation.

"You came with the ship."

T3 watched, trying to process all of the information. It left the man where he was, searching the ship for his Master. It needed to be sure. Despite it being a droid, it had grown attached... in a sense. It knew who bought it first. It knew who it belonged to.

But as it continued it's search, it found only the remains of... as it focused on the droid remains in the cargo hold... it couldn't place it. It searched it's memory banks, trying to remember what it's orders were.

Suddenly, it remembered one thing. It needed help. The Republic... if it's Master was gone, it was supposed to get help for the Republic. But it had no means to go around, and by programming, it currently belonged to the owner of the ship. T3 decided to bide it's time, to find the right person. According to many of the organics he used to travel with, things like that tended to happen.

There was nothing it could do otherwise. It's programming prevented any further action than simply waiting and serving the organics that owned the ship.

At night, when T3 was fixing the ship, it tried to remember it's Master. There were pleasant files stored. It's old Master had been friendly. The new Master- T3 hated to file the man as such- was not as friendly. But nothing could be done. Except charging, waiting, staying alive.

A/N: Okay, I want you all to know. It took such effort to NOT write 'him' instead of 'it'. I always call T3 a he... just because I do.

I had to go back several times- "_bad Herana, bad bad_"- to fix it. I hope I got all of them...


	11. Luck, T3M4

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 11, Luck

Time continued to pass. T3's circuitry was always being updated. It was being modified to fight, as the violently quick succession of Masters were getting shorter and shorter. Less and less time before the ship changed hands. T3 often received memory wipes- but never for it's one purpose. That was always hidden, both by T3 and _that_ Master, and it's temporary owners never seemed to notice. When they did, they quickly learned not to mess with that part of it's systems.

An old woman came on, almost six years after. Other organics seemed nervous around her, but T3 could never feel exactly what it was that made it so. It tried, but it was just a droid. It had no...nerves.

The aging organic was in charge of the others, and her leadership lasted quite a while. Other droids were brought aboard. They conversed occasionally, it was easier to get along with than... T3's memory banks always drew a blank when it tried to remember.

T3's orders were soon changing to taking care of an unconscious organic. It, along with the other droids, took her vitals, made sure she was alive. Even T3 had to admit- the organic wasn't getting better.

The elder organic did not find pleasure in this. T3 suspected that the woman had some sort of communicable disease that did not apply to elders, as the 'leader' was the only organic allowed to see the woman. T3 couldn't be sure, however. And he didn't ask. The elder woman didn't really treat it well. T3 knew it's questions would be both ignored, and punishable.

T3 was rolling by, and it happened to hear an exchange between the eldest female and a young crew mate. T3 pretended not to see the murder and body hiding of the corpse. What the organics did was their business. Besides, the red liquid that organics leaked got under T3's wires and caused irritation.

T3 gathered information about the woman from the protocol droid's memory banks. Apparently, the woman was a Jedi. She was behind Malachor V, a retired general. Not thirty years old. She had a long service record, and had been traveling for the past ten years. T3 knew that this was the person it was supposed to be looking for.

Finally, all the waiting had paid off.

It had gotten 'lucky' to use the organic term. Now all it had to do was get the woman to the Republic, and everything would be okay!

The only thing T3 wondered was how it was going to transport the ship, the woman, along with all of the crew to the Republic. Or, for that matter, where the 'Republic' even was nowadays... oh well. It had been lucky so far.


	12. Reboot, T3M4

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 12, Reboot

T3 worked hard to repair the ship. It even went so far as to stabilize the woman- who seemed to finally be getting better. The _Hawk _was broken beyond it's abilities to fix with so little resources, but T3 did what it could.

T3's companion powered down, in an attempt to conserve itself for whenever they docked. T3, however, knew it needed to stay 'on' just in case. Things in the galaxy were never straightforward, but that was why T3 had firing algorithms.

It passed the med-bay, barely noticing the woman was missing. Barely.

It quickly began searching the ship. She had to be somewhere! And, knowing organics, she couldn't be feeling too good. The human was likely to get herself hurt, or undo repairs T3 had left unfinished.

T3 could 'hear' a noise coming from the central part of the ship. As it went, trying to locate the noise and remembering that the security area had camera's posted in all parts of the ship, it suddenly realized that it had not seen the protocol droid.

Right before it reached the hallway that lead to the cockpit, T3-with a loud exclamation- received a shock.

It's power was quickly sapped, and things went dark.

…

T3 was staring at the human who unplugged it. It wasn't fully charged, but it had enough energy for a few days. That would serve it's purposes for now...

When droids began firing at organics, T3 stayed out of the way. They weren't it's organics, it had no bother in protecting them. It's protective programming was solely tied to the ship. It waited, though, for that human to show up. If that human could escape this trench of hostile droids, T3 reasoned, she would be good enough to give to the Republic.

That was when it got the hail.

Seeing that it's cooperation was necessary for the human to continue her trial, T3 made it's way to do what she asked. It wasn't hard, the droids in this place were all meant for a lower purpose than it was. T3 was equipped with many weapons with which to dispatch it's enemies. If T3 could have scoffed, it would have. No matter how many droids tried to impede, T3 was always better.

It surveyed it's surroundings and quickly decided what needed to be done. It unlocked everything it could, even uploaded the area map to the human in waiting. She would need that if she was to succeed. Satisfied, it began to head up so that it could meet the woman when she came down. It would be a chance for T3 to personally assess the woman.

T3 reached the console that would alert the woman to it's progress, and accessed it with ease. For somewhere with so many droids, security was rather low. Or, perhaps, that was just because things like that were what T3-M4 was originally built for.

T3 turned, and again saw his attacker.

It tried to fight, but the taller droid had the drop on it. T3 tried to stop the 'protocol' droid- if it could do this to _it_, imagine what it would do to the woman- but it came to no avail. For the second time within a matter of days, the proud and quirky astromech droid was forcibly powered down.

…

When it heard a voice, T3 powered up it's systems. It could see the woman and a man. The man was staring at it disdainfully, as if T3 had already offended him. T3 could not remember ever meeting the man before. Still, it was no concern. The woman was safe and needed it's help.

T3 quickly explained what had happened to it.

The woman just smiled at him, "Can you travel, T3?"


	13. Red Handed, Bao Dur

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 13, Red Handed

_It was his job._ That was what he told himself as he continued to build the thing that would, undoubtedly, be the end of Malachor V. No, building small, insignificant death machines wasn't really part of the job description, but helping out your general _was_. For the few days where she had asked for his help, Bao-Dur got the feeling she was hiding something. And it was big.

He just hadn't known how big.

The weird part wasn't that she needed- or thought she needed- the machine built, but that he had actually agreed to help. Yes, he hated the Mandalorians and Sith as much as the next guy, maybe more, but this was dangerous. People could emulate his work, and that was scary. The general could die, that was worse. His sole job here was to assist the Jedi. This machine that would kill them all seemed a bit contradictory to that goal.

The detonator was childishly simple. Especially since he was putting so many rings of security on it. The more there was, the easier it got because it made the system bigger and therefore easier to manipulate. There was one little addition he would be adding that the general wouldn't know about. He didn't know if she would survive, but there was always a chance.

It was just a simple siren. If it was connected to anything with a heartbeat, it would be active. If the heartbeat continued, but was slowing or if the horizontal sensors were going too long, it would begin a high frequency emission. Someone was bound to be watching Malachor for survivors, even if they believed it to be hopeless. _Especially_ since they believed it to be hopeless.

The relief on the general's face when he handed her the detonator was disconcerting. Bao-Dur hadn't known her long, and he didn't know her well, but he could see she was already resigned. He also got the sense that she wondered if he was going to back out. But, of course, he couldn't. If he could control what the machine did, instead of having her go to one of the other techs, it would give him a strange sense of peace. He hoped.

When he completed all of her specifications, the summons arrived.

Her eyes were empty- as if she had already died, when he asked her not to do this. It was pointless, of course. Jedi were stubborn, if anything. It was a trait they all had. The Zabraak knew she was right, the Sith couldn't escape... but was this really the only way to do it?

She seemed to want to say something to him, but thought better of it.

He couldn't sleep that night. Or the next. Or the next few weeks.

Then he heard, in a very blunt, very calloused way.

"You're lucky you got shipped off that hell hole."

"Pardon?" Bao-Dur asked the man who had spoken to him.

"They said Malachor just...exploded or something. Guess that Jedi had a dirty little secret she was keeping. They know who'd done it. They supposedly picked up a transmission. Well, we did. We're the closest thing there." The man kept rambling, but Bao-Dur wasn't listening.

A frequency? That meant the general was at least alive for now. She had survived. But at what cost? Was she alright? Would she want to be?

Within hours, they were scouring the planet looking for her. Bao's insides were churning, threatening violent revolt, as he stared at all of the bodies. There had to be thousands. Probably closer to hundreds of thousands. The damage was immeasurable. There was just too much to pick a place to start.

The planet had a sickly green glow. Bao-Dur wondered what caused this, but it was only a side thought, as his general was being brought aboard.

He got as close as he could to her, then wished he hadn't.

He could hear her laughing hysterically while saying, "Finally...finally it's quiet..."

But even that was better than listening to her beg to die. He couldn't stay next to her very long. It played too much with his emotions. He'd never felt such pity, or guilt before. That woman had been strong, independent. And now she was on a sick bed with a broken mind that manifested itself very loudly. One time, she grabbed his arm. He thought that perhaps she was waking up.

"They all screamed so loud...it hurt... and now it's quiet..."

"General? Can you hear me?"

"Nonono... no I cannot hear. It's quiet." her voice shrank into her throat, and she withdrew to herself for many days. She didn't move, speak, she was barely even breathing.

Bao-Dur was sickening with each moment he thought about his role in all of it- not instigator, no. Motivator? Creator? They called it the worst thing to happen since, well, long beyond living memory. Tragedy, they called it. Murder, they called it. Everyone of those _animals_ deserved it.

Often he stared at his own hands. The tools that had done all of it.

He might as well have pulled the trigger himself. He could have just said no. Should have. But he didn't. Why didn't he? Did she use her Jedi Force on him? Could she have Forced him to? It was a possibility. But he doubted it. He remembered every second, every guilty thought that he pushed aside as he answered his general's many pleas.

He requested transfer, he had to get away.

Somewhere where he could deny anything. Had he known the general who blew Malachor to hell? No- no of course not! Had he ever been to Malachor? Nah, but he'd heard it was a waste of a planet anyway..

When he managed to sleep, he often woke with a scream muted in his throat. Countless hours were spent washing his hands until they _bled_ in an honest- albeit ironic- attempt to get the blood _off_. Months passed by like this, and he kept moving. When he stayed in one place too long, he had too much time to think.

So he kept going, washing his hands as he went.

The young man could only wonder, if he thought _his_ hands were red, what about the general?

A/N: Hey, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was on vacation. Thanks for reading. Hope to hear from you soon.

-Herana


	14. Regret, Bao Dur

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 14, Regret

Sweat was coating his entire body, he was writing in fear. There was nothing he could do. Part of him sensed that it was a dream, but he was powerless to wake up. He experienced a disconnected feeling as he tried to move- both in his dream and out. He was seeing it in third person, watching himself shrink in comparison to the looming and familiar figure approaching him.

"Don't!" He cried out, "I was just following orders!"

"Oh? Is that so?" Her voice said. It was cold and accusing. She didn't believe him, and neither did he. He knew he had always had a choice. He chose wrong. No- he chose right... and no matter what it cost him, he would do it again.

In a sprint, he turned the opposite direction than the woman who terrified him most. She followed, like she always did, and he kept running. Just like always.

He was breathing heavily, and he knew he was running out of time. Soon she would catch him and make him suffer the way she suffered. She would break him. She would destroy what was left of him.

He pressed his back to a wall, hoping for a different outcome. Maybe this time she would just kill him.

"Bao, oh Bao? Where could he be? Hiding is _pointless_. No matter where you go... I'm always there... you know that. And," she was beside him now, whispering to him. She appeared like black smoke, "we'll never go anywhere without each other. Like two peas in a broken pod."

"General...don't." He begged.

"And now you suffer." She said, her hand extending to his throat. He started to scream, fighting the urge to do so in his physical body. His roommate had already complained about his erratic behavior and yelling.

Bao-Dur jerked himself awake, quickly rubbing his face to make sure he was still there. He got up and went to the refresher. His hands were in the middle of lathering when his roommate leaned on the door frame.

"Why do you always do that?"

"What?" He asked, not bothering to stop washing his hands.

"Wash your hands after a bad dream."

"Habit."

"What the hell kind of habit is that?"

"A murderers habit." Bao-Dur answered, hoping to scare the man from asking more questions. He was not in the mood to deal with, explain, or listen to anything more from this man.

"There are things to fix that, ya know."

"Spice is not always the answer. It messes with your mind, makes things worse." Bao-Dur said tiredly. He was just...finished.

"Yeah, I know. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you want to die?" Nobody could find out his secret. He couldn't let anyone know. No one could find out because they would ruin everything. He'd been able to lie his way here, but he couldn't let one little dream make him slip up so badly.

"Alright, alright. I can see you don't want to talk about it. But at the very least, take some meds to get some decent sleep." The man went off, waving his hand dismissively and yawning. When he fell asleep almost instantly, Bao-Dur considered what he'd said.

Sleep was tempting. But what if he took the meds, then had a dream anyways? What if the meds only rendered him unable to wake up, forced to suffer in silence without the reprieve of waking up and washing his hands?

No, he couldn't do that. He would take his chances with un-medicated sleep. He didn't need that much sleep anyways.

Bao-Dur sighed and went to tinkering with his toys. It helped his mind a little. Something to do that he had to pat attention to rather than things like target practice. Point, shoot, no brain required. Which was against the idea of not thinking about Malachor.

Before his eyes closed sleepily, he went back and washed his hands one more time for good measure.


	15. Redemption, Bao Dur

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 15, Redemption

With time, it became easier to breathe and sleep. Food had no value but energy still, but that was probably permanent. He had stopped washing his hands, even. Well, mostly. Sometimes he still caught himself at the sink, or if he had no water, just rubbing his hands. It made him look a little crazed, washing his hands without soap or water, but he couldn't help it. His hands were used to it.

Revan had done a number on the Republic while he recuperated. Bao-Dur saw his chance to do something good- maybe a little atonement for his sin. Nowhere near enough, of course, but a down payment on the rest of his life.

At first, he had wanted to design planetary shields, but he quickly found that there weren't many places that had great need of that. With Revan and Malak both gone, there was little threat to any one planet. He usually didn't decide where he was going next until he was at the space port. That day was no different.

"Did you hear? The Republic is finally mounting an effort to rebuild."

"Really? Where?"

"Telos. Heard they're gonna start there then move on. Guess they thought they looked bad since they got beat so bad. Who knows."

The men continued to converse, but he was running for the ticket line. His rush attracted no attention whatsoever in the bustling station. He was just one of many people trying to get somewhere in a hurry.

"One ticket to Telos." He said.

"Okay... that ship leaves in-"

"I know, hurry and give me the ticket." He was being brash, but he couldn't care right now. He'd have to wait at least another week before the next transport came around, and he couldn't stay in this place anymore. It was time to go.

He paid for the ticket and bolted off.

The doors closed the second he stepped inside.

…

He wasn't smiling when he stepped onto the shuttle. Czerka was ruining everything! They had to be stopped. And, since no one else was going to do anything about it, he was headed down to the planet's surface to... he didn't know. He would kill everyone if that's what it took. His work was too important to let morals get in the way. Not that Czerka was worthy of such high thought.

When he'd been messing with the mercs for almost a week, he took a small time to relax. He just needed time to recharge. That was when they'd captured him. His cage was ridiculously easy to break out of, but he just needed to wait for the right time. On the second night of his captivity, he snuck in the quiet of the night. Two guards were silently dumped over the side of the platform, where their bodies wouldn't be noticed until it was too late.

He'd made it away, and he kept going until he thought it was safe. He knew they were looking for him, they had to be with all the ruckus they were making. When one or two found him, he dispatched of them before they had a chance to warn their comrades. He laughed at how he must be making the mercs feel. They had to be nervous with the way their patrols were continuously becoming less and less frequent with more and more people.

Three days after his escape, he saw another shuttle. He recognized the aircraft as belonging to the Ithorians. The thought made him frown. He'd hoped they hadn't come for him. He'd told them not to. He would either contact them or he would die. They weren't supposed to send anyone else.

He headed toward the shuttle when he heard the AA towers firing. Whoever was in there could die if he didn't hurry. With that in mind, he took care not to be seen as he approached the crash site.

The first two people he saw he removed. A young man with brown hair and an old woman. Both were unconscious, but they weren't seriously injured. He went back to check the downed ship one last time when he saw an arm coming out from under a chair.

He pulled the woman out carefully. She had several cuts on her arm, but Bao-Dur would have to wait to examine her more thoroughly. When he'd got them all at a safe distance, he finally realized who the woman was.

Her hair was just as red, though longer and had more curls than he remembered.

He dropped her unceremoniously as though he had been stung. He took a few steps back to try and breathe. Focus himself.

Five steps from him was his general.

The very same general who had perturbed his dreams for almost ten years now. And he had saved her. He knew he should just leave. Anywhere she was, disaster was bound to follow. But before he could decide, she woke up.

"What happened?" She wondered. She didn't seem to see him. She went to checking the young man, thoroughly enough to be sure he was fine, and did the same to the old woman, though Bao-Dur had to admit she seemed to take more care with the young man.

When their eyes met, she didn't recognize him. Still, she smiled a friendly smile and waved at him.

He took a leap of faith. Destruction may follow her, but there was always a chance of peace.

He took it, hands washing themselves behind his back.

A/N: Besides Atton, I think Bao's my favorite male character. It's usually hard to see things from his POV, but I like the idea of him feeling guilty. He doesn't really like to go into detail, but I hope this is representative enough of him. I figured I'd have at least one bad habit from feeling something like that. I picked his hands.

I'd love to hear thoughts...?

And hey! I just realized.. all of Bao's chapters start with R... Awesome!


	16. Host World, Visas

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 16, Host World

She was the oldest girl where she lived. All of the other children were at least three years younger than her. That didn't stop her from playing with them. Sure, she was a tad taller, smarter, leaner. The other kids didn't seem to notice.

At the moment, they were playing tag. All of their parents were standing a few yards away, watching as best they could. Visas could tell they were worried about something, but she couldn't tell what. Whatever it was, it seemed the whole planet was teeming with it.

When it came time to go in, the children had tired themselves out, but not Visas. She was thirteen, and had a wee bit more energy. She couldn't help but eavesdrop as her parents spoke in soft tones.

"Why do they have to come _here_?"

"They're hoping we can help them see." Visas' father answered. He was one of the elders of the town- he wasn't particularly aged, but he had wisdom that shouldn't have belonged to him. So he was well respected and played a large role in planetary matters.

"I don't want to be here when they get here." Her mother said. Worry was coloring her words.

"Everyone's feeling it. There's...something. Big, and they need our help. What are we supposed to do? Say no?"

Her mother didn't have an answer. Visas, however, had a question.

"Who is 'they'?" Her voice was curious, but she contained herself from erupting like a child. She was a big kid now. She could handle being calm.

"Visas, go on to bed." Her father said calmly.

"Father, please? Who's coming?"

He deliberated for a long time before finally answering, "The Jedi."

"Why?"

"Visas, you are too little to understand." His tone was business-y.

She recognized the dismissal and took to her room. Jedi? On her world? Her people were highly Force-sensitive, but... for Jedi to be coming? She assumed it was in large numbers since her mother seemed so worried. What could bring so many...here?

That night she slept little, as young children were wont to do when a problem that was clearly out of their league presented itself, and they were determined to show their parents that they were, in fact, capable.

The next day, there were no children to play with. Everyone stayed home and spent time together. It scared Visas. Even her father, who was a dedicated workaholic, stayed with her and told her stories of when she was little and the outrageous things she used to do.

The knock came a little after dark.

"Master Marr, Master Marr!"

Her father smiled and went to answer the door. His face dropped as the low whispers that Visas couldn't understand continued. He shot a look to her mother, who's only reply was a knowing, weepy look of her own.

"Mother, what's-"

"Visas, go to your room." Her mother said harshly. The tone surprised the young girl, who quickly retreated. Something horrible must've happened.

…

Visas let loose a high pitched scream. Her mother came running.

"What is it? What's wrong?" came the panicked cries.

"Father! He's in trouble! I saw it... I saw what's coming... mother, it's coming for him! We have to get to him!" She was already throwing on her clothes, rushing so badly that she nearly missed her shirt. Her mother was trying to object, but Visas would hear none of it. Her mother had not seen how terrifying the...thing had been.

The girl sent a silent prayer for speed, and it she received it.

It amazed her to find that not fifteen minutes of running that she was at the town's center. It normally took forty-five minutes to even reach the inner workings of the town. She didn't have time to sit and ponder what had happened.

She burst into the room loudly.

There were several Jedi hunched over the centerpiece of the room, they seemed to be coordinating something with her father.

He was staring at her for an explanation.

"It's coming... father it..."

"Visas? What's the matter?"

"I saw it- I saw it in a dream..." her voice was stuttering, and she could barely understand herself. She hoped with everything she had that her father understood.

"Saw what, dear?"

"Baba, it's coming for you...all of you." She used his nickname in an attempt to show him how serious she was. The affectionate nickname was, per her father's rules, never to be used in front of anyone- not even her mother. It meant something more if it was secret.

He got down on his knees to hug her, trying to calm his crying daughter. She put her arms around him and gripped him close. She was taking deep breaths, realizing how silly she must look, but she couldn't help it. His scent was helping her calm down.

"Shh, it's okay. That's what the Jedi are here for. They're trying to find it."

"You don't understand. It's already-"

Just then, the father she gripped so closely, turned to ash in her fingers.

Her scream of horror went unheard.

The entire world was ash. It was dead.

And she was forced to watch and listen.

Her mind tried to wake her up- this was just a bad dream! But her heart knew. The truth was... she was almost alone on this planet.

She steeled herself.

_It_ was out there. And if it wanted her, she was going to go out fighting. But she was terrified. She needed something to keep her going. A mantra, of sorts.

She repeated the first thing she thought of.

"_As my feet walk the ashes of Kataar, I will not fear. For in fear, lies death..._"


	17. Scars, Visas

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 17, Scars

The young woman's fingers traced her arms. There were several bumps, indentations, missing and sensitive parts. As she followed faint lines across her body, she couldn't help but try and remember each one. How she got each and every mark. She imagined she looked like a broken doll- sewed in places, missing parts in others.

The one that ran from her right shoulder to her navel had been the first one. That day, on Kataar. She'd tried to fight against her Master. Ah, the foolish musings of a broken girl. To think that she, a lowly adept in the Force, stood a chance against the _evil_ she now served.

Another, from her wrist, around her arm finally ending on the inside of her elbow. _She_ had done that one. A few days after the destruction of her home world. It was an attempt to end her dreadful existence. Hah, the useless attempts of a girl bound to darkness. To even consider that she could be allowed to die.

A short, but deep scar from her collarbone to her right hip. That one she had been _forced_ to inflict. It was punishment for yet another futile attempt at 'freedom'. Hmph, the desperate attempt from a desperate creature who was forced to endure so many atrocities.

The bone in her left arm moved in a way that Visas wasn't sure it was supposed to. A few years ago, she'd hesitated to kill a prisoner. Oh, the poor try at a moment's reprieve. It had hurt for months. Any complaints, and other bones were broken.

She'd been broken, ripped, mauled, beaten, stripped, desecrated, used, abused, torn, bitten, stabbed, licked in so many places, she almost didn't care anymore. It was no longer her body. It stopped being her body the day _it_ ate Kataar, if it had ever been her body at all. Visas denied any memories of the time before then. They brought back screaming ghosts who demanded to know why she, the servant of evil, had survived when so many good people had not.

There were two scars that were fighting for Visas' acknowledgment of their supreme impressions on her. One, her mind, which had been molested in every way possible and then some.

Two, her heart, which had been crushed in more ways than anyone should be made to bear.

Out of all of her scars, she couldn't figure which hurt more of the two. The physical things, they faded- well, _most_ of them- but the marks left upon her mind and heart.. those would probably never heal.

She meditated to ignore her physical pain. Which left her to her mind and heart. Most days, Visas would rather take the physical pain.

Today, her knee had been kicked backwards. It now went both ways if she tried to walk. Visas wasn't sure what to make of it. There wasn't any way to heal it fast enough that she was capable of. She knew there was a Force ability to heal wounds... and she had tried it before.

It was forbidden. It was against the rules. It was punishable.

And it knew. It always knew when she tried.

So she left it alone to a stint. Hopefully that would be enough. If not, it would just be one among many oddities left upon her body.

She sensed a current in the Force. A stirring that she had not felt for many years. She followed it, trying to hide it from her Master. It took effort, but she thought she was doing a good enough job. Until she sensed it's presence in her mind. Then she stopped following, saying it was nothing.

But that night, as she meditated, it came back.

When she saw it- the goodness in it- she wept. She had not cried in two years.

And her Master knew. She was summoned, and assigned.

She told her Master what he wanted to hear. That she would kill the red-haired woman who was going to potentially threaten his claim on Force-sensitives. She was dismissed.

Visas prayed to anyone who was listening, begging, not for her life, or freedom. Not anymore. She wanted the woman to survive. Whoever she was. The galaxy needed her. And maybe, if the woman killed her, her Master would go, too.

But that was just too much hope for both Visas' scarred mind and heart.

And hope she could not bear.


	18. Hope, Visas

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 18, Hope

After the first encounter with the woman's aura, Visas had had no problem finding her. It was like she was tied to the Jedi as she was her Master. But she knew that was impossible. She knew that the only bond that she would ever form was to a thing of pure evil. Somehow, she felt she deserved it.

Travel took a while. She was in no hurry to rush and kill this woman. As soon as she was away from her Master- out of the reach of his whip- she took the time to rest. Her body healed slowly, as it had for a while. She supposed there was only so much a body could endure before it stopped trying. Her lightsaber took a charge after much convincing.

Visas wondered what was happening to her. If she was dying, it felt different than she thought. As she considered possible outcomes of the upcoming confrontation with the woman. There were four. Visas died, or Visas served the woman until she could get back to her Master. Or, the woman died, or the woman served. Visas' favorite option was first and foremost, her death. She couldn't help but... no, she couldn't hope.

After two months, she got a move on. Dantooine. That was where the woman was when Visas started to move. It was the planet where the rest of Visas' life would be decided.

…

Getting aboard the vessel had been rather easy. She'd watched them get off. The woman, a young man who looked at her more than once, and a white droid. They'd foolishly left the ramp open. Well, it made things simpler.

When Visas got up the ramp, an old woman was waiting. Even Visas, with all her experience picking apart Force-sensitives, couldn't decipher her. She wasn't sure what to expect.

"You can wait for her in the dormitories." The old woman said.

Visas nodded, understanding that the old woman would keep anyone away. For whatever reason, the old woman was allowing her to stay. The broken woman wasn't sure what to make of it, but she would take what she could get.

She spent what felt like hours meditating, when the woman's distinct footsteps could be heard.

Visas turned when the woman asked, "What have you done with the crew?"

The battle was not easy. Visas had to Force the woman to see things through her eyes just to get the upper hand. That resulted in the breaking of her lightsaber. Visas fell to her knees, grateful that the battle had come to this.

She'd begged for death.

When the woman smiled at her, warming the cold depths of Visas' being, she'd felt it again. That little... airy feeling in her chest. She was trying to place it.

Then, in one swift moment, she got it.

Hope.

The woman brought the broken girl hope.


	19. Goddess, Mical

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 19, Goddess

Mical had always been curious. About life, about death, anything that he could read or hear. And he was good at retaining it. That was his favorite pass time. Reciting facts, figuring out new things about politics. It was always fulfilling to know that he knew something.

When the Jedi took him for as a candidate, it was exciting. Mical knew the Jedi had many archives, records, that the rest of the galaxy had not been privileged to. Things the 'regular' people only had to guess at.

His training was going well. Most of the Masters he worked with were impressed with his hunger for learning. But he wasn't interested in the Force, just knowledge. He didn't really bother with it- it couldn't be understood. It wasn't until Dantooine that he realized that there was more to life than the books and holo-records.

"Alright, little ones, disciples of the Force, this cave is filled with crystals that are Force-sensitive, just like you and me." The young woman at the front of the room said. She had curly red hair and pretty eyes. Her skin was pale, but tanned nicely. Her body was athletic, as were most Jedi, but it was different in the way that it wasn't obvious. She was naturally pretty and a leader, whether she realized that or not.

Mical was overwhelmed by her.

"Any questions?"

Mical stopped his hand from flying up. He hadn't been paying attention, so he had nothing to ask. Anything he said would have sounded stupid because she'd probably answered it already.

"That's a good question. No, not all crystals will respond to you. Some of them will even shy away from you. Don't take it personally, though. They aren't doing it intentionally, but the Force knows what you need."

Mical was hanging on each and every word. He hadn't really felt the room around him, he hadn't tried to learn how. Now he wished he had, so that he could see the things the goddess on the other side of the room was describing.

When the lesson was over, the young boy waited around. Trying his hardest to see things through her eyes.

"Disciple, is something wrong?"

He looked up at her, surprised by her acknowledgment. "No, Master. I was just..."

"Between you and me, I'm still a padawan." She whispered conspiratorially.

"One would never guess. You knew so much about the crystals." he said with awe in his voice.

"You flatter me, little disciple. How old are you?"

"Seven." He answered, a little embarrassed.

"I'm only nine years older than you. I bet you're smarter than me, though. I have a feeling you're the one the Masters were talking about. Mitchel or something." she made a face that made Mical laugh.

"I like to learn." He said with a shrug.

"Well, you should go on. It was nice meeting you, disciple."

He bowed and went on his way.

The entire way back to the enclave he was thinking about the encounter. She had laughed with him, smiled and told jokes. Even confessed a 'secret'. His heart was still fluttering. He knew feeling something for her- if that's what this was- was wrong, but he couldn't help it. There was some connection between that red haired woman and himself, he knew.

There may or may not be a way to explain it, but he knew.

When he went to sleep that night, he kept finding new ways to describe her. How beautiful she was. How perfect and fluent her movement was. How knowledgeable she was. How easy she had found it to instruct children who weren't all that much younger than her.

Mical knew a lot of words, and still he could not find enough.

Before he rose the next morning, however, he'd found one word that summed her up as best as possible as one word could.

Goddess.

She was everything- fair, kind, harsh, cruel, beautiful, spiteful, vengeful, protecting- that the word implied. The word had to have been made just for her. There could be no better use for it.

She was, in every sense of the word, his Goddess.


	20. Sacrilege, Mical

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 20, Sacrilege

He'd long since given up on the Jedi. When the Goddess left, so did he. If she didn't need the Jedi, neither did he. There was no sense in staying somewhere where she didn't feel wanted. So now, all he had to do was figure out what to do. He'd had no idea where she'd gone. Even their bond, that had dimmed with their permanent separation, could not lead him in the right direction.

The only thing he'd heard was that she was serving the Republic.

He decided that's what he was going to do. Help her in any way, directly or indirectly, possible. Perhaps, if he waited long enough, he would find her again. He could reconnect with the woman, who hadn't even known his name, and things would be alright again.

Though it wasn't the greatest plan, it was all the now-named Disciple could do in his current situation. Wait and endure.

…

He couldn't believe it. Malachor V, destroyed. Uninhabitable. Her picture was placed beside it. They were blaming her for it. Blaming her for the slaughter of almost a million. Maybe she hadn't realized how many there had been. Maybe she didn't care.

That couldn't be right. That wasn't the woman he knew. She would never willingly do something so devastating. She would die first. She stood for Justice, Goodness... she was a Jedi!

Everything they were saying about her...they had to be lies. Disciple refused to believe it. There was no way. It was blasphemous to even consider. He could sit, like a stubborn rock, and not believe it at all.

His heart was hurting again. It hadn't hurt like that since the day the war started. When he wondered what was happening, his head knew what his heart denied. She, the woman he'd spent nearly his entire life idolizing, had killed in great numbers, with no remorse- or at least, none that he could see. And she might have died with them.

His life was thrown upside down, and he needed to know why.

He had to know, or he would never rest. Things would never make sense. He fought the thought that she had done what the media, and even the Jedi said she had done.

Disciple knew he had to first understand the Jedi thought process.

He needed answers. He needed to know what took that goddess and turned her into a demon. What Force could be so great that she had to do what she did?

On his long trip, most of his thoughts centered on how alien it all seemed.

He had worshiped the ground she'd walked on. There was a special place in his heart where she had always been. And now, he was taking the time to personally investigate her corruption.

How perverse this universe was.

He couldn't help but tell himself he was in the wrong. She had her reasons. It was none of his business. He still didn't bother to stop himself.

His goddess was not likely to answer him any time soon.


	21. Commitment, Mical

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 21, Commitment

Studying took time. Time he didn't have. The longer it took him, the less Jedi there were. They were dying, hiding, falling to the dark side. And Disciple still hadn't learned anything he didn't already know. From everything, he was more tired and hopeless than he had at the very beginning.

Dantooine was the final straw. If he couldn't find what he was looking for here, he was giving up. Ten years was a long time to be looking for someone and not find them. Of course, it was a big galaxy, and he was only visiting worlds with connection to Jedi, but even then. He'd expected to find some trace of her, or at least of the Jedi. But there was little to find.

The academy was filled with animals that were very intent on eating him, but they were of little consequence. The lack of power made it hot, but he wasn't going to complain. He had never cared about the temperature, the danger... he was after something and he was going to have it.

What he found in the last room surprised him.

Bodies, freshly killed. Not but a few hours old. They had lightsaber wounds- cauterized-on-contact cuts. There was only one weapon that could do something like that without leaving other marks. A lightsaber. That meant there was a Jedi around. Hours passed, and he couldn't move.

His back was to the door as he stared ahead. Horrified at his own foolishness. The Jedi were here, and he was busy being frozen in place. And by what? Fear? No, that couldn't be it. Maybe a sense of foreboding. Like he should wait.

Something was coming. Maybe the Jedi was returning to clean up it's mess. In any event, he wasn't going any where. He took an hour or so to eat, fighting off any creatures that came around. This room needed to be protected. He could feel that much.

It wasn't long after that he began to hear explosions and movement. All of the bug-like creatures seemed on alert, and eventually, they all rushed off. It made him anxious. Whoever was coming was coming hard and fast. He genuinely hoped that they weren't going to end his investigation on this planet. He had come so far...

The door had been locked behind him.

He could hear the controls being meddled with, and he debated whether or not to open them. Disciple decided it was in his best interest to wait. If whoever they were wanted in, they were going to have to get through the door- which by this point he could tell wouldn't make much of a difference. He decided to look busy.

From the other side he heard, "Pure Pazaak!"

The door slid open. When he turned around, it took everything he had not to fall on his knees. Instead, he bowed, with a kind smile.

"What a gentleman." the goddess said.

He took a few moments to ready himself.

The man who was with her was obviously protective of her. No doubt. The woman was capable of taking care of herself, but one would still want to be a shield for her. Offering his help had been automatic, as had her acceptance and the man's refusal. The man had no choice, however, when she said that Disciple could come.

His grin was hidden from the three traveling, droid included, as they left.

She hadn't changed a bit.


	22. Adoption, Mira

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 22, Adoption

Mira was playing with her friends. It was sunny, and warm. She loved the weather. It always made things seem happier. Closer together. Greater.

"Tag! You're it, Mira!" a young girl screamed. Mira chased the children around. She caught them quickly. She was good at guessing where people would run. She had always been good about stuff like that. She went home when her parents called.

Her older brother gave her a big hug.

"Hey, you." He said.

"Hey!" She smiled.

It felt nice to be hugged like that. She belonged there, in her older brother's embrace. It always felt right. One of the most perfect feelings she had ever experienced.

"What are you doing back so soon?"

"I just felt like I needed to come home." There was something under his kind voice that worried the young girl.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just had a bad dream. Wanted to see you."

"Oh. Okay." she accepted it and enjoyed their time together.

…

Tears were falling out of her heart, but she refused to let them reach her eyes. Her house was on fire, the town around her. There were men in suits running around, killing anyone big enough to fight them. She didn't know where her brother was, but she knew he would be killed. He was already law enforcement on this planet. He would feel that it was his job to try and protect the people.

Her parents were on the ground behind her. Holes in their stomachs, blood on the ground. Feeding the thirsty dirt who claimed everyone's soul when they died.

A voice spoke to her, and she didn't understand. It was some language she didn't know.

Still, she got the gestures. She was being...kidnapped, or something. Forced to go with these monsters.

…

They used her as a pack mule. She carried things that they needed. Armor, weapons, food. Learning the language didn't take long. Some of them helped her. They translated Basic to Mandalorian. And soon enough, she could speak.

It took effort, but she finally stopped shaking when they spoke to her. She had been traumatized.

Their voices had sounded harsh and impossible to discern between when they first took her. About seven or eight months in, she could tell between people and remember names. It was useful to her, trying to remember who wanted what had been hard without that.

She'd been carted off several worlds, several platoons.

After she turned fourteen, they started needing more people. Things were going bad for them. Some big bad Jedi had joined the war, and she was really causing havoc in the Mandalorian war effort.

Mira learned, she became better. She enjoyed being able to shoot so well. To find where enemies were hiding. To be able to get her man every time she tried.

She became part of a bolster squad, then a regular squad. Then an elite platoon.

She was almost as much Mandalorian as the next guy- which was saying something. Both because she was, in fact not Mandalorian, and a girl. The women Mandalorian didn't usually fight- they usually stayed 'home' and held down the fort. Mira had never seen a she-Mandalorian.

"Hey. Mira, c'mere."

She walked lithely over to the man waiting. She didn't even flinch when he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Got something for you."

"Really?" She was incredulous. Anything she'd had, she'd gotten herself. With the credits off of bodies.

"Yep. Here."

The man handed her a rifle, "Do you want me to clean it for you? It looks new, but-"

"No, Mira. That's yours. You've been here long enough."

It was beautiful, and elegant, and lethal. Mira couldn't stop herself from practicing holding it, even taking a shot in her excitement. There were a few laughs around her.

"Thank...thank you!"

"Welcome, Mira."

A/N

I feel the need to say thank you. Knight Watcher, you make writing all of this worth it. Your reviews make me feel like I'm on the right track, so thank you! I appreciate each and every one of them. They are my precious treasures.


	23. Breaking, Mira

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 23, Breaking

She was old enough to understand what was happening, young enough to not understand why. She didn't know why she wasn't going with her family to Malachor V. They wouldn't answer her when she demanded. They ignored her pleas to go.

She sat alone the night before they set out crying in her room. Her heart wouldn't let her rest. Long ago she'd learned to trust her instincts. Right now, they were saying that something bad was going to happen. When she thought about going- actually being there- her heart stopped.

It was horrifying.

Mira felt like she was betraying them. Going there meant she was going to die. So that was off the list of places to go. She was too young to die... at least, she hoped that's what was happening.

The young girl didn't sleep that night- nothing new to her. There had been so many nights when she couldn't fall asleep. She'd gotten use to working with little sleep. Her record without sleep was four days. That had been a tough time, and she'd slept for almost two when the situation was clear.

Mira looked up at the shuttle leaving, right at the settling of both of the planet's suns. It took precision to do that. There was precious little time between the setting of one sun and the rising of another. Timing was everything.

…

Her body felt heavy, and she couldn't really move. It didn't come as a surprise. For months the letters had been getting less and less frequent, shorter, and what was there was grisly. There was some general there who was really sinking her teeth into the efforts. She'd been getting worried, and knew things were going bad when she got an extremely long letter that felt too much like a good-bye to not read with tears.

She'd gotten sick for a short while. Then, with the absolute force of any grown Mandalorian, she'd made herself grow up. No more tears. She had to move and do something. The first stop, she didn't like. She kept moving.

Her soul wasn't empty. She was angry. At that general, at Revan. At herself. Part of her knew that being there wouldn't have made a _damn_ bit of difference. Every other part of her knew that she wouldn't have had to deal with the loss.

She was walking past a little girl when her thoughts were interrupted.

The little girl was crying so loudly, Mira had to fight the urge to yell at her.

"What's wrong?" She asked after grinding her teeth together for a few moments.

"I...I can't find my mommy!" The little girl wailed. She wiped her eyes with a dingy sleeve.

"Well, where was the last place you saw her?"

"I-I don't know! I was standing... I had to go to the bathroom.. and-"

Mira let out a long sigh, "C'mon, let's go look."

She wasn't happy about the little girl. Mira wanted to get on the next ship off this rock, and if she was late, so help her. But she couldn't just leave the little girl crying. It reminded her of painful, forgotten memories. Mira's mood worsened when small fingers weaved their way into hers. Snotty, wet child fingers.

They'd been walking towards the nearest building when a high, hysterical voice began yelling in their direction. The girl snapped away from Mira and started running. It took a few seconds for Mira to realize that this was probably the girl's mother.

She'd started to walk away, her self-imposed obligation now null, but a larger, slightly shaking, hand grabbed her upper arm. She was two seconds away from prying the hand away, but she paused at the look on the woman's face.

"Thank you for-"

"Don't thank me. I didn't do anything." Mira said gruffly. She didn't like being thanked- at least not when she didn't feel she'd earned it. All she'd done was walked with the girl.

"No, really. I've been looking for her for hours. I was afraid something might have happened... Thank you."

For the first time since Malachor, Mira actually smiled. Her heart felt a little warm fuzzy. The girl pulled on her shirt.

"What is it?"

"Thank you."

Mira shook of the young girl, the mother. The warm fuzzy feeling.

It was too soon to be feeling so good. The shatters in the glass- in her soul- were still too new.


	24. Puzzle Pieces, Mira

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 24, Puzzle Pieces

Mira laughed as she handed over yet another scumbag who owed yet another debt to yet another scumbag. Things were so easy now, she was almost getting bored. But she had two more jobs scheduled and had no time to waste at a cantina.

After work, she decided to waste a few credits on Pazaak. Well, actually, gain quite a few. There would be little need for her expertise, the few patrons at the human bar weren't all that great. Sometimes Mira wished she didn't have to inject herself to go into the Jekk Jekk Tar. Things were much more lively in there.

Mira stretched and went outside.

Whispers of the word 'Jedi' were every where. She became a little panicked. Jedi? No, no they couldn't be here. They were all dead. They had to be.

Still, if people were as right as they all seemed to be, there had to be something to it. And Mira had a score to settle with Goto. A nice pile of credits would go greatly with it.

Mira began her investigation.

…

"And what did she want?" Mira asked.

When the man gave her an answer that was completely useless, Mira stalked off, rubbing her face. For someone as high profile as this Jedi, Mira was having a hard time locating her. It was impossible- or at least it should have been- that someone as good as Mira couldn't find someone as loud as a Jedi.

But there she was, having to actually do leg work now.

It was kind of exciting.

Until Hanharr showed up.

…

The wookie's hand was tight around her throat. She could feel the rockets on her belt rub against the railing. She'd threatened that they were being pressurized, if he kept squishing her they would explode. But they both knew she was lying. She wasn't some two-bit pistol jockey who would buy cheapo equipment that would get close to exploding like that. They both knew her better than that.

He called her out on her lie, then dared to claim the Jedi as his own. And, on a side note, adding that she would soon be dead, nothing new there.

But Mira wasn't going to let her quarry fall to anyone, least of all Hanarr. Piece of slug-licking...

…

She'd drugged people before. Gas, needle, food or drink, and even by slipping it into their mouths by kiss. She'd been smart when she'd upped the dosage in her room. She knew some Jedi were trained to resist toxins. It depleted her already diminished stash, but it was enough to get the job done. Thank goodness. Mira didn't know what would have happened if she hadn't had enough.

When the Jedi was laying on her floor, she took the suit the woman had been carting around. As an afterthought, she'd moved the Jedi woman to the other side, to the little scrap of a bed Mira had here. It was a small effort that made her feel better about the whole slimy meeting she was about to go to.

And that was another thing Mira didn't understand. This Jedi actually agreed to meet with that squid-head, knowing it was a trap. Knowing that while she was in there, she wouldn't be able to contact her companions, or call for help. It was stupid, un-Jedi-like. Reckless. She liked the Jedi for being ballsy, but had to frown at her disregard. Still. Like was better than nothing.

…

As Mira exited the compound, under stealth even though there was nothing but a pile of bodies, with a small sigh. This was a lot of trouble for one woman. Jedi or no. She unlocked all the doors in case the Jedi came- which she suspected was highly likely since she hadn't seen Visquis at all. There must've been more pressing matters, and a reason for higher quantities of guards. They had been pouring in steadily since she started to make her escape. She doubted it was for her.

Mira almost jumped when she saw an elderly-ish man behind her.

Almost.

…

Atton was annoying the young huntress. So were a few of her other, younger companions. Disciple, she thought his name was. They were all worried, save one. An old woman who, despite her calm exterior, seemed to radiate impatience at not knowing where their leader was. None of them wanted to listen to her telling things how they were.

The general was lost, and there was virtually no way to tell where she was. She was with Go-To now. And, unless they happened to be one of Vogga's freighters, there was no way in the universe they were going to find her fast enough. It would be too late by the time they had a single lead.

Suddenly, the pilot grinned like he had an idea. He turned to the small, white-ish droid they had.

"Time to be useful, you piece of tin."

The resulting beeps were quite colorful, for a droid.

Mira had to laugh. This Jedi had earned more respect. She led this group of misfits. They were completely lost without her.

That particular thought hurt more than it should have.

Completely lost.

Mira was going to be hurting like that for a while until another flame-headed lioness showed her exactly how to see. How to put the pieces back where they belonged.


	25. Preteen, Go To

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 25, Pre-teen

The boy was only twelve when the first war started. His dad went off to join, leaving him and his older brother to take care of a sickly mother and failing sister. It was a lot to place on his shoulders. Especially since his older brother was no help- what, with taking all of the money they could possibly earn to go out and, and play! There wasn't time for that! There wasn't money for that.

There were people who depended upon them, but his brother couldn't see that. And when Goddard pointed it out, it usually ended in a fight. His brother was becoming more and more violent as the war moved on, leaving it's marks on everyone as it passed. When their sister died, things only got worse. Golith blamed the little thirteen year old boy who was stuck at home all the time. It had to be Goddard's fault!

When his brother had come in his room in the middle of the night with a blade, Goddard wasn't afraid. He'd always kept some form of defense or another in his room. That night was no different. His brother wasn't expecting a fight, so he died quickly. This was less than a week after the death of his sister. And, now, Goddard Tombol*, found himself an only child. It was painful.

When his mother, frail heart already broken from losing her only daughter, heard about her eldest son... she lost it. Went completely insane, for about an hour. Then, after a solid half hour of screaming at the soundlessly crying boy, her heart gave out. She, too, perished.

Goddard's heart hurt, but he couldn't feel it anymore.

But, no, that couldn't be all. Days later, he received word that his father had died.

His family had to be left behind. The young boy, who told everyone he met after that that his name was Go-To (a little name his sister had given him), was shuffled in and out of homes. The war displaced him, very far from his home world. The boy didn't care to remember any of that.

The war was finally over when he turned fourteen.

But he could feel that it wasn't _over _over. Something about the way it ended just wasn't right. The big war hero just vanishes? Where, in any heroic _anything_, did the heroes vanish? That couldn't be the end. Maybe there was more evil that needed to be fought elsewhere. Secretly, the young man- only in spirit of course- wished he could do something. But not even the mercs would take someone so young and inexperienced.

The entire galaxy still saw Go-To as a child. He didn't believe them for a second.

*Yes. We're going AU on this one. On purpose. (You dirty little liar.. I did it on accident. But I'm keeping it.)

-Herana


	26. Baby Face, Go To

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 26, Baby Face

Go-To was so elated! They had finally, in a desperate attempt to defend themselves against the throng of Sith, allowed for fresh recruits at seventeen. He was old enough now, finally. He could finally get out there and _do_ something. It had been his life's dream for so long.

He'd waited for hours in line. Each step had brought him closer and closer to the final leap into his future.

He managed to contain his smile, "I'm here to sign up."

"Really, baby face?" The recruiter asked sarcastically, "Gonna need to see your papers."

"Papers?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure I believe you're old enough. Lemme see yer birth certificate."

Go-To was at a loss for words. This was insane. No one else had been asked for their papers. Not. One. Person. And now the man was demanding to see his. Not that he had any to begin with, but he wished he'd been told they might've asked for them.

"Don't got any, baby face? Move aside, let the next person come."

"But I-"

"Nope. Next." The man called out.

Go-To's heart sank. No! He'd been waiting for six years. Six long, grueling years. And now the man was telling him he looked too young? This was madness. Insanity. It couldn't be happening.

"Hey! Someone get this baby-faced kid outta here."

Go-To memorized the man's face, silently vowing his revenge.

…

It was easy. On such a rough planet, you'd think the man would be a little bit more careful. Maybe he thought since he was with the Republic, he was safe. All he had was a gun, which was no good at close range. Which was _exactly_ what Go-To had in mind. He'd spent half a day planning. Two days following. And now, now it was time.

The man didn't hear his footsteps. Didn't hear Go-To cut him off from any help.

Too bad.

"I have something I want you to see." He said as lowly as possible.

The recruiter jerked around. He searched for the owner of the voice, all the while arming himself. Go-To knew it was useless.

"Who's there?"

Go-To stepped to where the man could see his assailant. The look of shock, and feigned relief, was pleasing. Go-To didn't stop moving forward until he was within striking distance, and rather out of safe shooting range.

"Baby face, man you scared me."

"That would be the point. You really shouldn't judge people by their appearances."

"Hey, I don't want any trouble." The man tried to back up.

"Oh, there's no trouble. But I am going to teach you exactly who you messed with." The words of an arrogant young man with nothing to lose. A scary young man with nothing to lose.

The authorities found the body later with two words carved into both the face and the torso.

Baby Face.

* * *

A/N:

Also, I think that reviewing past chapters is KW's way of telling me to post something new. Even if it's not, I'm going to pretend. ^_^

I'm considering just putting all I've got on here, as school will be starting soon and we all know what that means.


	27. Someone Taller, Go To

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 27, Someone Taller

The man rubbed his forehead. He was prematurely balding, which was almost a complete opposite from his early life where he seemed younger than he was. The stress of his work was much a contributor to this. One did not run one of the largest crime syndicates and still maintain one's own health. It was just not possible.

Peragus II had just been blown to hell by some Jedi, or so the story went. Go-To knew his bounty was enough to at least warrant some hunters to continue to search for them, whoever they were. They had just caused an imbalance. Imbalances were _not_ tolerated. Go-To had no qualms about killing this Jedi, but he wouldn't mind meeting them either. Someone who could do that...

He read another report. It was boring, meticulous, but necessary. He kept at it for an hour before putting the datapad down and switching to making orders. He sent for all of his ships to begin snatching Vogga's freighters. With Peragus gone, someone was going to have to ship fuel to Telos. And Vogga had the most available right now. Just business.

…

Go-To couldn't believe the audacity of the Jedi. She was on _his_ planet. He had to admire her guts. Or maybe she just didn't know. That couldn't be true. She had to know that the Exchange had it's claws all over this planet, and a bounty on her head. He now knew _it_ to be a _she_ from several reports.

Many had played her out to be very powerful, that she had a presence that could just be...felt. He wasn't impressed by the words on his datapad. Others tended to exaggerate- especially with Jedi.

He called all the bounty hunters to a meeting on one of his yachts.

Hanarr was not pleased that Go-To was not there in person. It almost made him laugh. As if he didn't know that the little squid Vogga on Nar Shadaa was trying to kill him. _As if the squid could even do half of what Go-To did_. When he powered down the black droid he often used to do his bidding, he slumped in his chair.

He was _tired_.

This was just too much right now. Trying to manage the blowback from the fuel fallout, then trying to make sure the Jedi was brought to him alive. It was the closest he'd been to catching a live one.

Within thirty-six standard hours- put together, seven and a half he had forced himself to sleep- his informants within Visquis' lair had told him that the squid was attempting to kill the Jedi. He ordered Visquis terminated, and the Jedi brought to him. Or at least, to one of his ships. It would be better than trying to get her to come to a meeting.

…

He looked at the curled up woman on the floor. Her hands were twitching, and her arms were trying to move. He was impressed she was even capable of breathing without wincing.

"I hope you are not in too much pain to hear my words." He said.

Her eyes opened, and she made a monumental effort to steady herself. Within a few minutes, she was on her own, though gripping her side, and conversing with him.

He tried to explain exactly what it was he wanted from her.

"You have a strange way of asking for my help."

Her attitude surprised Go-To, and amused him. He hadn't met someone who was so frank with him in a while. Most people were too afraid. Not this woman. She was actually laughing, having a good time at his expense. His eyes narrowed in irritation when the alarms started going off.

Right as he clicked off his end of the transmission, her heard her snort to herself.

"Someone taller, he says. They always want me to be _taller_."

It was the last thing he heard from that particular droid. She hacked both of them, he watched as she reprogrammed them to defend her. He had to give her credit, she didn't waste time. Efficient. He liked it.


	28. Different, Briana

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 28, Different

Brianna always knew she was different. The other girls all seemed to fit together, like a well oiled machine. When she tried to dance with them, or play other games with them, she was always the odd one out. They all looked the same. All of them.

And she didn't.

Her nose was sharper than all of the other girls, and her chin was square. They all had heart shaped faces. Nice, pretty, girly faces. Not her. She was... not as pretty.

When her mom and her first moved to this place, all of the other children did not like her. They flat out told her that she was not welcome. It was only after their parents had told them to at least make an effort that they allowed her in their circle. Only to humiliate her, time and time again without fail. But she endured. It was what she got for being different.

It wasn't nice, like her mother said it would be.

Being different wasn't good. Being different made things harder than they needed to be. It brought more tears, and in the end, she only had to work harder to get the same results as everybody else did. She could- and almost always did- do better than all of the girls here, but she was still never good enough. It was only because she was _different_.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I'm super sorry about the super short chapters for Handmaiden/Brianna. I really don't connect to her, and she's kind of an extra into this. Since my Exile is female, she wouldn't even be going. But I'm trying to go boy-girl-boy-girl in the order that you meet...(bet you didn't think there was a reason to my madness) that's not working out too well for her.. she was an afterthought. *sorry for my forgetfulness*

\o/ ←

/o\ ← that would be bowing

\o/ ←


	29. Strength, Briana

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 29, Strength

She was devoting herself wholly to Atris. No matter how hard it would be, it couldn't be anything she hadn't endured before. Intense physical training, only to be told it was average or below. Hours of studying only to have the essays thrown out because they were childish or too unclear.

What she found was not so.

Atris was complementary, though sometimes trying. But it felt nice.

There were five other women here- she'd known all of them from growing up. They all still hated her just as much for being different, but she didn't care as much as she used to. Sure, it would have felt nice to be loved once in a while, but it was nothing. Just a complaint.

Atris began to move all of her Jedi artifacts to her chamber. The handmaidens were only allowed to carry certain ones. When all the other girls had gone ahead, not caring to look inside, Brianna dared to search the contents.

There was a warm cube, she pulled it for further inspection. It began talking to her, very fast and hurriedly. Like there was a lot to get in in a little time. She didn't know what happened. She dropped it back in the canister and quickly caught up with her 'sisters'.

Even as she passed them, in the middle of the crowd they made, where they had to at least touch her for a moment, she felt alone. It was the worst feeling.

To be surrounded by 'family' and still be completely alone. It was a lot to deal with most days. With a swallow, Brianna pushed past all of them, hoping to muffle the noise coming from her container, and burst forward. She made it to Atris before anyone else.

She could hear hissing voices, but they were silenced as the door opened.

Atris quickly came to retrieve the box. The older woman struggled under the weight, "How did you get here with this so fast?"

Brianna bowed out, ignoring the hateful glares of her angry siblings.

She didn't want to be there if Atris found out she had broken one of the cubes inside. The very thought made Brianna walk all the more faster to the training room.

She was going to keep getting stronger until someone finally recognized her.


	30. Regretful, Briana

Guilty Bonds

Chapter 30, Regretful

Brianna watched the woman gracefully challenge her sisters. By the time she had reached the third tier, Brianna did not want to watch anymore. To think, that this outsider could come in here and...

It made her angry, and continuing to watch would only make things worse. As she left, she could hear the Exile saying, "Feel free to pair up."

The young woman spent the next few minutes pacing, calming herself. She convinced herself it wasn't because the Jedi was better than her, it was because the Jedi was battle hungry, just like Atris had said. She had a thirst for battle that could not be matched, at least not in this place.

So Brianna was patient.

What surprised her was when the woman came to talk to her. She had a much calmer demeanor than Brianna would have believed. _More tricks..._

Brianna called out to her, one last time before she left.

"What does the Force feel like?" She asked.

The woman seemed hesitant, "It's...hard to describe."

"Please." Brianna felt like she was begging. Begging to fit in, begging to know. It made no difference now.

The red-haired woman smiled pleasantly, closing her eyes to find the right words. The description that came out was pure poetry, and it nearly broke Brianna's heart that she would never feel it. The old woman added her own lyrical smidgen, and even that hurt. She wished desperately to hear it, just once. Once and she would be complete.

The woman walked away, without another word. Brianna watched her ship leave.

After that day, Brianna wished she had gone with the Exile. Maybe she could have learned the Force. She should have gone. She should have just...snuck aboard.

Not doing so was just one more complaint added to Brianna's list, though it certainly made the first spot.

She hung on to the description of the Force, used it as a mantra.

Even that was not enough.


End file.
